


Needs

by Inell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, HP: EWE, Rough Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-18 00:02:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2327936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She gives him what he needs</p>
            </blockquote>





	Needs

It isn’t very surprising when Romilda opens her door to find Harry standing on the other side. After the case they were called to this morning, she’s been expecting it. In the three years she’s been working as part of his team, she’s seen how the crimes with children always get to him worse than anything else. They don’t bother her all that much because it usually means she’s going to be even more focused on catching the perp than normal, but Harry’s sensitive about them.

“Can I come in?” He shuffles around like a bashful Hufflepuff, and she rolls her eyes.

“I haven’t turned you away yet, have I?” She opens the door wider before turning away from him, putting a little extra sway into her walk. She hears the door close and the lock slide into place.

“I’ll always ask,” he says. “You have a choice, after all.”

“I know that, Harry. I chose to become an auror despite my parents’ wishes that I do something more ladylike,” she reminds him, sitting down and making sure her skirt shows off her thighs. “And I chose to join your team despite any lingering awkwardness from silly school girl attempts to get your attention.”

“You were never a silly school girl, Romilda.” Harry sits in the chair opposite her and runs his fingers through his hair. “Brash and over confident, yes, but not silly.”

“You say the sweetest things,” she drawls, looking him over and making an assessment. She knows what he needs even if he doesn’t yet. “Take off your shirt.”

“I thought we’d talk first? Maybe have a drink.” Harry shrugs and flashes a smile that her younger self would have fainted at receiving. Now, she just arches a brow and stares at him. “Alright then. Down to business. Maybe a drink after?”

“If you’re a good boy.” Romilda spreads her legs and drags her fingertips over her warm skin while he takes off his shirt. “Nice. Now the trousers.”

He looks as if he’s about to protest her giving him directions, but he doesn’t waste his breath. He likes to fight it, likes to resist, but she knows him too well. “It’s warm in here.”

“Did I ask your opinion?” Romilda smiles as he takes off his trousers. “Turn around for me. Let me see that firm arse. There’s a good boy. Now, on your knees.”

When he kneels, she feels a sense of power that’s intoxicating. The great Harry Potter is on his knees waiting to do whatever she tells him. It makes her wet just looking at him. There’s a part of him that wants to resist, she can see it in the way his cheek is twitching and how he’s grinding his teeth, but the rest of him wants this. No, _needs_ this sometimes, and she’s only too happy to give it to him.

“Crawl to me,” she says, lifting her arse off the sofa so she can pull her knickers off. When she’s done, he’s there and waiting. Romilda spreads her legs and touches herself, trailing a wet finger across his lips and watching his tongue snake out to taste her. “Lick me. If you make me come fast, I might be generous enough to let you fuck me later. If you don’t, I’m going to fuck you.” She laughs when he moves his head forward quickly, lapping at her like he’s dying of thirst. “I’ll probably fuck you anyway. I do love to see your tight arse clenched around my toy.”

He loves it, too. It’s one of the reasons he comes to her when he needs things he can’t find with any old bird he picks up at a pub. The first time had been a fluke, or so she’d thought. Too much adrenalin after an intense case, a quick shag to release that tension. But then he came back and kept coming back, and she’s learned what he likes, what he’s ashamed to admit he wants but will let her do if she makes him. It isn’t love, but there’s something there.

She tangles her fingers in his shaggy black hair and takes control, riding his face and reminding him who’s in charge. He whines when she pulls his hair, a sound that makes her smile as she fucks herself on his face. “Use your fingers on me. Good little pet,” she praises, closing her eyes as she takes what she wants from him and gives him what he needs.

End


End file.
